“I swear to be the shield of the Southern Chapter, the eyes and ears of its territory. I swear to aid in its battles and arm its warriors. I swear to guard its secrets and secure all that I see and hear henceforth.”

Nick’s voice echoes around the Chapel, louder and clearer than the others who went before him. “The penalty for breaking this vow is total mesmer and excommunication to the darkness of unknowing, never to return to the light. Do you bind yourself still?”

The cool tide of the Oath has wound itself between my fingers. It streams down my back like a waterfall until I’m covered with it. I squirm, shifting my weight from my right knee to my left. Someone hisses, and Davis raises his hand to stop them.

“I do.”

This isn’t going to work. The Oath will know that I’m lying. They’re all going to know—

Suddenly, pain lances through my arm. It’s Nick, digging his fingers into my flesh deep enough to leave marks. I meet his eyes and he nods imperceptibly, urging me to focus on the blunt pressure of his nails. I chase the sensation down like a rabbit in the woods—and the ancient promise loosens its grip on my body.

Nick’s quick thinking saved me. Maybe saved us both.

Across the altar, Nick’s pulse leaps against his throat. It takes him two attempts to begin speaking.

“I, Nicholas Martin Davis…” Nick releases a harsh breath, as if drawing on a deep well for strength. “I…”

When he meets my gaze again, the look in his eyes fills my stomach with dread. There’s pain, anger. Then, resignation.

When Nick’s voice resonates through the Chapel, the Legendborn hold their breath.

“I, Nicholas Martin Davis, Scion and heir of King Arthur Pendragon of Britain, the son of Uther Pendragon, wielder of Caledfwlch, the blade Excalibur, and first-ranked of the Round Table in the Shadowborn holy war, accept your Oath on behalf of our ancient Order.”

Nick watches the shock travel through me with sad, weary eyes.

I barely feel the aether Sel sends pulsing through Nick’s hand and into mine. Our gazes are still locked, but everything else has changed.

King Arthur Pendragon of Britain.

Scion and heir.

“I welcome you to service. I grant you Sight, so that you may see the world illuminated for as long as your heart be true.”

Why didn’t you tell me? I send the question through my eyes. He flinches.

His words sit on my tongue while the flames swirl up my arms like silver-blue snakes. The mage flame washes over me without soaking into my skin.

You said you don’t lie.

He sees the accusation on my face. Withdraws his hand. Stands, turning so his face is hidden in shadow.